


just like honey

by brian_zeller



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bees, Brian Wears Glasses Because It's Cute And I Say So, Episode Related s02e04, Lonely Middle Aged Men, M/M, Preller Fic As Written By A Wannabe Entomologist, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brian_zeller/pseuds/brian_zeller
Summary: “The drone, when mating with the queen, has an ejaculation so explosive it’s audible to the human ear,” Jimmy quipped, lips tugged into a smile. “Personally, I haven’t found a man who lives up to that reputation but I’m holding onto hope.” He met Brian’s eyes, and Brian awkwardly smiled, not adding anything in response and instead scratching the back of his neck.Brian's pathetic, really.





	just like honey

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=470HnRobKLc)
> 
> this was so relaxing and fun to write, i'm so glad i finally got an idea for preller, one of my personal favorite ships/character dynamics. getting to write their humor was so refreshing, especially writing beverly. researching bees and apiaries in my political science class was also really fun and kept me sane. 
> 
> as usual, huge shout out to abby for looking over this and making sure the story actually made sense. 
> 
>  
> 
> [playlist](https://8tracks.com/aaronabrams/just-like-honey)

Brian walked into the field, stomping haphazardly over daisies and fresh spring grass. He felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck from the uncharacteristic heat wave. The beads of sweat gathered in the bunches of his shirt, finding home in the collar of his assigned FBI jacket. He scowled as he continued trampling through the grass, swatting flies away from his face. A multitude of bugs surrounded the area, sticking to the corpse like the sweat sticking to Brian’s forehead. 

Jack stood near the body, arms folded across his chest and shades resting atop his face. He gave nothing more than a grunt as Brian approached him, avoiding the distracted photographers. Brian squatted down, analyzing the honeycomb buildup on the victim’s face. The combs extended down the man’s neck, honey dwelling and filling the intricate system. The man’s eyes — or the spot where eyes once were — were hollow but intensely focused on Brian. He swallowed uncomfortably, going back to examining the waxy corpse instead of his black stare. He walked around the the body, grabbing his flashlight to shine through the cavity in the man’s skull.

“Lobotomy,” Brian said, looking up at Jack. Jack frowned, inching barely closer. “The brain isn’t gone, per say, but uh, scrambled.” Brian shined his light at the dissipated globs of pink flesh, trying to not get too offended at the rising stench of rotting flesh wafting closer and closer towards him. 

“Why though?” Jack squatted down next to Brian. “Why scramble the brains?” 

“They— ” Brian gave a quick cough, trying not to gag as he pointed at the man’s face. “They made room for the hive. That’s my guess.” 

Jack stood back up, nodding. He motioned for the coroners to come bag the body. 

Brian stood, “What are we going to do with the bees and the hive?” He felt dumb and a little disturbed at the thought of the insects flying around the morgue. He frowned at the thought of having to squash one down on the decomposing body. 

“I’ve got a guy,” Jack replied with no intention of furthering the sentence as he pulled out his phone. Brian just nodded, going back to the FBI’s van. Jack silently got in the driver's seat and they drove back to the bureau without another word between the two of them. 

 

\-----

 

Brian took long strides, keeping up with Jack’s brisk steps as they headed towards the lab. All around them were busy body lab rats. Brian saw one of the newbie’s sewing together a corpse of a child and shuddered. Jack halted his movements, turning around quickly and Brian almost slammed into him. 

“Get Katz,” Jack said then continued onto the morgue. Brian didn’t bother nodding at Jack’s retreating back. Instead he went to his and Beverly’s shared office. Brian knocked on the door frame, bringing her attention away from the computer monitor and to his sweat drenched face. 

“Jack wants us in the lab.”

She nodded, getting up with a short huff before following after Brian. They walked the short distance in silence, he listened to the clicking of Beverly’s heeled boots, taking comfort in the familiarity of their routine. They rounded the corner, finding an odd peace among the silver mortuary tables. Jack stood with his arms crossed over the body. In the chair to Jack’s left a man sat with his back to Brian and Beverly, hunched over and staring at his phone. 

_ Must be the bug guy,  _ Brian thought. Beverly gave him a look, questioning the stranger, to which Brian just shrugged back. 

“Zeller, Katz,” Jack spoke, his eyes staring down the two of them, “this is Jimmy Price. He’s a museum specialist at the Smithsonian.” 

“And avid lover of bees,” Jimmy interrupted, spinning around in his chair and greeting Brian and Beverly with an easy smile. Brian nodded back at him in a silent greeting. 

“He’s going to be assisting you on this case,” Jack said before exiting the morgue. 

“I’m Beverly,” she said, extending her arm over the corpse to shake hands with Jimmy. “That’s Brian, resident loudmouth.” 

“Okay, that’s  _ not  _ true,” Brian defended, shaking hands with Jimmy. Beverly gave him a pointed look. “Okay, maybe it’s a little true.” 

Jimmy smiled in response, letting out the slightest chuckle as he dropped Brian’s hand. 

“Shall we begin?” Beverly asked, sliding her goggles over her face. Brian nodded, smile threatening to appear on his face as he tied his lab coat around his waist. It felt bizarre, finding joy in a job like his, but he got used to ignoring the guilt. Instead finding the positives, the looks on a victim’s family’s faces when they solved a cose. He wondered, as he cut through the shirt of his John Doe, if a family was waiting for him at home. 

Jimmy got to work surgically removing the honeycomb from the body. He gently scraped the comb with the scapple, waxy fallout landing on the medical bed. An amber drop trickled down the man's neck, mingling with stung skin. Jimmy caught the line of runoff with his gloved finger.

“Want a taste?” Jimmy asked Brian, playful eyes meeting Brian’s own goggled ones. His lips upturned into a mischievous smile, baiting Brian to respond. Brian swallowed whatever snarky response would be perched on his tongue, too nervous at the idea of jokingly flirting with a stranger. He shook his head instead. 

“Shame,” Jimmy mused, staring at the drop on his plastic wrapped finger. “Probably smart, don’t know if I could bring myself to, either.” 

Brian got back to examining the corpse, going over the multitude of bee stings. He got closer to the man, eying the precarious placement of puckered skin. Brian tapped Beverly’s arm, beckoning her closer to his position.

“What is it?” She asked, leaning in and examining the stings alongside Brian. 

“There’s a pattern,” Brian said. 

“A pattern?” Jimmy asked, looking up from his growing pile of combs and mess of honey. In his left hand was a sticky larvae. 

“The stings were planned,” Brian explained, beckoning Jimmy to come look at them as well. “They’re hiding needle marks.” 

Brian stepped back, allowing Jimmy to stand alongside Beverly. He perched close to the man’s arm, nose almost touching a particularly large and inflamed sting. 

“They weren’t planned,” Jimmy corrected, “but they were used to cover up the needles.” He went back to cleaning up the honeycomb and wiping down whatever honey had fallen onto the lab floor. Beverly grabbed a q-tip, swabbing the inside of John Doe’s cheek carefully. 

“I’ll go check for matches, see if we can identify him from any missing persons reports. Then we can look into any acupuncture clinics in the area, see if he was a patient at any,” Beverly said before walking off, the clicks of her heels growing quieter. 

“I’m guessing bees don’t naturally hive themselves in humans like this?” Brian asked, desperate to make conversation and lessen the awkwardness from his lack of response to Jimmy earlier. 

Jimmy shook his head, “No, this guy was repurposed as a human apiary.” Brian looked up at him. “Apiary, a sort of home for the bees so beekeepers can keep them safe but also safely collect honey.” 

“Oh, that’s sorta neat,” Brian responded lamely, head barely nodding. “I’m kinda afraid of bees.”

“Bees?” Jimmy responded incredulously, meeting Brian’s wide eyes. Brian gulped and nodded. “They’re vital for life, everything you have and know — bees!” Jimmy’s hands flailed by his side, honey sticking to his gloved palms. 

“I know that,” Brian defended, “I’m just afraid of getting stung. Like every other sane human being on the planet.” 

“Only sting when provoked,” Jimmy said, accentuating his point with a sigh and crossed arms. He just as quickly uncrossed his arms, staring at the sticky residue on his gloves — and now transferred slightly to his lab coat — “shit.” 

Brian let a chuckle escape, “What got you into bees?” He went back to examining the body, trying to find the cause of death. 

“Don’t know, they stung me a lot as a kid but I always felt like they were misunderstood. Never got mad for the stings.” Jimmy sighed, pausing his work on the last of the honeycomb on the man’s upper back. “They’re just fascinating, the system and the matriarchy. There’s this fun fact, what really got me interested in bees and entomology studies as a whole, if you want to hear?”

Brian nodded, smiling as Jimmy burst into a smile. Brian could tell how positively enthusiastic Jimmy was over the insects. Brain could easily imagine him pouring over large encyclopedias late into the night or even collecting honey from his own backyard bee farm ( _ apiary,  _ his mind supplied a moment later). 

“The drone, when mating with the queen, has an ejaculation so explosive it’s audible to the human ear,” Jimmy quipped, lips tugged into a smile. “Personally, I haven’t found a man who lives up to that reputation but I’m holding onto hope.” He met Brian’s eyes, and Brian awkwardly smiled, not adding anything in response and instead scratching the back of his neck. 

“Uh, yeah, uh,” Brian stammered, trying to frantically compose himself, “It seems that our John Doe here died of a fever or infection. His white blood cell count was through the roof.” 

“Something tells me Jack’s not going to like that,” Beverly stated, walking in with a folder in her hands. Brian and Jimmy simultaneously paused their work, giving her their full attention. “Found a match, Duncan Halloran. He was reported missing six months ago. Fifty-two, divorced, and bankrupt.” 

“All I know,” Brian added, “is that cause of death wasn’t murder.” 

“So you’re telling me he walked into a field by himself and bees just swarmed him?” Beverly asked. 

“No,” Jimmy clarified, “but we could be dealing with a religious individual.” 

Brian and Beverly both quirked their eyebrows at him, asking him to elaborate. 

“Well, in Hinduism honey is one of the five elixirs of immortality,” Jimmy continued, his hands moving about him, still coated in copious amount of honey, now dry. “In Christianity, the bee is considered to be an emblem of Christ — his mildness and mercy on one side, his Old Testament justice on the other.” Forgetting about the stickiness, Jimmy clasped his hands together. 

“And,” Brian began, moving around the bed and to Jimmy’s side. He shone the light to the back of the man’s head. “I told Jack that he was lobotomized, likely, when we picked him up. But, I noticed, when we brought him in, tiny puncture wounds in the back of the skull.” 

“So, he was lobotomized to make room for the hive,” Beverly concluded, crossing her arms. Both Brian and Jimmy nodded in agreeance. She moved to their side, peering into the man’s gaping skull and shining a light closer to the hole. “These definitely are needle marks, I’ll look into acupuncture places near where we found him.” She handed the folder with the man’s information to Brian. “Zee, fill out the report then hand it into Jack.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Brian replied, saluting her as she walked away rolling her eyes. Brian sat the folder on the counter, before grabbing the sheet to pull over the body. Jimmy began cleaning up his mess of honeycomb, double checking if there were any live bees stuck in the honey or any more larvae. Brian wheeled the body into the freezer, locking the corpse away for another day. 

Brian sat down, opening the folder to begin filling out Duncan Halloran’s report. He tried to not focus too much on the soft humming coming from Jimmy, feeling as if the small, subtle sound was what had been missing from his everyday routine in the lab. 

“What goes into those reports?” Jimmy asked, taking his gloves off. Brian looked up, wondering for a split second if Jimmy was actually talking to him.  _ Of course he is dipshit,  _ his mind supplied another second later.

“Oh, uh,” Brian said, “mainly just findings in the autopsy. Cause of death, any abnormalities, that sorta stuff.” 

Jimmy moved closer to him, plopping down in the empty stool next to Brian, “Neat, I actually was planning on going into forensics after college — and no I won’t specify how long ago that was —,” Brian grinned at that, “but I liked the routine of a job at the museum. Interned there, kinda grew on me. Plus,” Jimmy shrugged, smile on his face, “gives me time for my bees.”

“You have your own bees?” Brian asked, eyebrows raised. He closed the folder, report finished with little to actually report on outside of the needle marks and infection theory. 

“Make my own honey too,” Jimmy added. 

“That’s cool, even if I’m a little afraid of bees.” Brian smiled, meeting Jimmy’s eyes. “I’ve never actually been to the Smithsonian.” 

Jimmy’s jaw practically fell to the floor, eyes wide as he exclaimed, “How have you never been? Not even a class field trip?” 

Brian shook his head, smiling growing larger, “From Canada. Kinda pricey trip for a bunch of fifth graders.” 

“Well,” Jimmy declared, standing up and grabbing his discarded jacket, fishing around until he produced a pen, “if you’re ever in D.C I will give you a personal tour.” Jimmy grabbed Brian’s hand, writing ten digits near his thumb.

“Dude, there was a pen right next to me,” Brian said, watching with intense detail as the ink appeared on his skin. Jimmy just barely smiled as he finished the final curve of the last number, capping the pen and putting it back in his jacket. 

 

\-----

 

Brian shut off the lights behind him, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed towards Jack’s office. Beverly half jogged up to him, asking about how the rest of the autopsy went. 

“Nothing really new to report on,” Brian shrugged, waving the folder around in his right hand. Beverly instantly honed in on the ink, which truthfully Brian had half forgotten about in the hour or so since Jimmy had left, heading back to D.C. 

“What’s that?” Beverly asked, grabbing Brian’s hand and halting them in the hallway. “Oh my fucking God, Zee.” 

“What?” Brian awkwardly asked, stuffing his hand in his pants pocket and away from questioning. Beverly crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “C’mon what? I said I’d never been to the Smithsonian, he said if I ever came out to D.C. he’d give me a tour of the place.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, not meeting Beverly’s intense stare. 

“Unbelievable, you bastard,” Beverly let out a huff. “I leave you alone with a guy for not even an hour and you get his number.”

“I didn’t ask fo—” Brian tried to defend, but was cut off.

“You know how long I’ve been flirting with Steven from the teaching department? Months,” She punctuated her point with a sharp point to Brian’s chest. “Practically flung myself on his desk when I went to ‘ask for help’ on something I already knew the answer to. What’d he do? Sat there and answered the goddamn question.” 

“Listen,” he held up his hands in symbolic surrender. “I didn’t ask for his number, he was just being friendly. And I’m sorry about Steven, guy doesn’t know what he’s missing.” 

Beverly shook her head, walking off in a faux-frustrated manner, “Unbelievable.” She half turned, still walking and shouted out, “You better keep me updated after you call him!” 

Brian laughed, shaking his head and still holding up his hands as he took a few steps backwards. He went into Jack’s empty office, leaving the folder on his large desk, then headed out to his car. He stole another glance at the black numbers on his hand while putting the key into the ignition. He refused to feel anything but a burgeoning friendship between him and Jimmy, giving someone your number wasn’t necessarily flirtatious or romantic, he reasoned internally. But, he thought, Jimmy  _ seemed  _ to be flirting — asking to taste honey off his hand, making eye contact when making jokes about ejaculation for fuck’s sake. He rolled his eyes and groaned as he passed through green light after green light until he pulled up to his apartment complex, he was overthinking everything as usual. Jimmy was being  _ nice  _ and maybe Jimmy just had a flirtatious sense of humor and it didn’t  _ mean  _ anything. Brian didn’t even know if he wanted it to mean anything, he just met the man. Now he was just bargaining with himself, as he opened his fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. 

Brian sighed as he fell back onto his beat up sofa. He tipped back the beer, ignoring the rumbling of his stomach. Maybe he had some leftover Indian or Chinese in the back of his fridge, but he didn’t want to check, not right now. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, debating calling Jimmy as he put in his number into the contact section (under ‘jimmy - bee guy’ accompanied with an emoji of a bee to top it off, he didn’t normally use emojis — except for the boxing glove next to Bev’s contact name, her request — but something told him Jimmy would like it). He pulled up iMessage, wondering if it’d be less daunting to send him a casual text.  _ hey, what’s up, this is brian from the fbi _ , no that wouldn’t work,  _ this is brian, sup?, _ he wasn’t a frat boy, jesus, sending a text shouldn’t be this hard. He shook his head, hitting the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

“Hello?” Jimmy answered almost immediately, followed by a loud gulp. 

“Hey, uh,” Brian let out a gruff cough, gathering his words and holding his room temperature beer bottle to his forehead. “Hey, it’s Brian. From today. The FBI.” 

Jimmy chuckled, “Hey Brian, from today, from the FBI. What do I owe the pleasure?” 

Brian smiled, “Just thought, I’d uh, give you a call so you’d also have my number?” He didn’t know why he finished that sentence sounding like a question, he shook his head in silent shame. 

“You busy right now?” Brian could practically hear Jimmy’s lips upturn in his signature mischievous smile.  _ Jesus, Bri, ‘signature’? You met him today,  _ he thought to himself.

“Not particularly.” He looked at his half-drunk beer. “Actually, not busy at all.”  

“Well,” Jimmy began, “I didn’t feel like driving back to D.C., I know it’s only an hour I don’t need to hear it mister. I’m at this little mom and pop diner, haven’t ordered anything.” Brian held his breath. “Want to come join me? Keep this lonely, old man company?” 

Brian’s smile grew larger, “Sure, text me the place? I’ll be there a-s-a-p.” 

“Did you just spell out ‘asap’?” Jimmy teased. “Might have spoken too soon, didn’t take you for such a nerd.” 

“You study dead bugs for a living,” Brian deadpanned, grin still on his face. 

“Better than dead bodies,” Jimmy replied quickly. “I’ll text you the place, see you soon.” With that Jimmy hung up and left Brian with a dumb, goofy grin on his face. 

He pulled up Beverly’s number right after his call with Jimmy, “Meeting him for dinner. Before you say anything, it’s  _ not  _ a date.” 

“You’re driving all the way to D.C.?” She asked. “And I thought  _ I  _ was desperate to get laid. You might’ve finally one upped me.” 

Brian rolled his eyes, “Not planning on getting laid. And no, he stayed in Virginia I guess.” 

Beverly gasped, “Oh my god, he was totally banking on you calling. Dude, you’re getting laid.” 

“I am not. Jesus Christ.” Brian knocked back the rest of his beer, now room temperature. In his ear he heard a ping, signalling that Jimmy text him the location. 

“Gonna wear your glasses?” Beverly asked. “Even I have trouble resisting you in your glasses.” 

Brian shrugged, “I may have entertained the idea.” He had decided yes the minute the idea popped into his head. “Contacts get tiring after a while.” 

“Lie,” Beverly let out a sharp laugh. “Go get ‘em tiger. Give me all the gory details when you’re done. Well, you can keep  _ some  _ things to yourself if it all goes well.” 

Brian just replied with a laugh and a quick goodbye before hanging up. He tossed the bottle into recycling, then headed to his bathroom to take out his contacts and swap them out for his glasses. 

He leveled with himself in the mirror that he had absolutely zero intention of trying to wine and dine Jimmy and was in fact just going to meet him for dinner. It was a friendly meeting, he went out for dinner all the time with Bev and it never ended up with sloppy makeouts (even if the first month Brian worked at the FBI he had a  _ massive  _ crush on Beverly, seeing her shoot a gun still got him a little worked up, and she made sure to never let him live down the brief crush whenever she got some tequila in her). Great, he rubbed his temples, now he was thinking of making out with Jimmy, wondering if his sides were as soft as they looked under his button-up.  _ Jesus, keep it in your pants,  _ he thought to himself. 

He checked the location Jimmy sent him, sending a confirmation that he was heading out now. He walked out to his car, slight bounce in his step and keys jangling. He kept reminding himself  _ not a date, not a date  _ on the short drive there. He almost ran a hand through his hair, but stopped before he fluffed up his curls too much (glasses and white man’s afro would  _ not  _ be a good look). 

Jimmy waved at him when he walked into the quaint diner. Jimmy was sipping on what appeared to be strawberry lemonade, his grid-patterned button up pushed to his elbows. Brian let out a soft breath, reminding himself for the hundredth time that it was _ not a date _ . 

Brian slid into the sticky red booth, sitting across from Jimmy. “Hey.” 

“Hey to you too.” Jimmy smiled, accompanied with a long sip from his drink. “So, glasses huh?” 

“Oh,” Brian grinned sheepishly, pushing them up his nose as he ducked his head and gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, contacts get itchy.”

“They’re cute,” Jimmy said, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug. Brian just smiled, ducking his head again and avoiding Jimmy’s face.

“So, not going back to D.C.?” Brian asked, trying to change the topic as he peered over the also sticky menu.

Jimmy shrugged, picking up his own menu, “I might after this. Just didn’t feel like it at the moment. Haven’t decided.” Brian hid his smile behind the menu, just nodding instead. “You ever eaten here before?” 

Brian shook his head, “Not really. Mostly just pub crawls with Bev, job doesn’t allow for much fine dining or even runs to McDonald’s — not that I would.” The waitress set down a water in front of Brian and he took a large gulp, forcing himself to stop from rambling too much. 

“You boys ready?” The waitress asked, chewing bubble gum loudly. Her blue eye shadow was starting to crease and there was a stain on her pinstriped top. 

“I’ll have the hawaiian burger, please,” Jimmy replied. “And more lemonade?” 

The waitress scribbled down his order then looked to Brian.

“The bacon cheeseburger, with fries,” She wrote it down. “And I’ll also have a strawberry lemonade, thanks.” She nodded and left them. 

“No fries?” Brian asked, reaching for his water again. 

“Watching my girlish figure,” Jimmy teased, waggling his eyebrows and let out a slight wheeze of a laugh. “So, you and Bev close then?” There was a slight hesitancy in Jimmy’s voice, as if he didn’t really want to know the answer to the question. 

“I mean, yeah, we’re coworkers but,” Jimmy’s smiled lessoned before Brian continued, “we’re best friends too, yeah.” Brian took another nervous swig of his water. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah that’s good,” Jimmy nodded, clasping his hands in front of him. Brian tapped the table with his right hand, looking around at the tacky 50’s decor. “Don’t wash your hands much do you?” 

“What?” Brian stilled his tapping. Jimmy just nodded at his hand on the table, where Jimmy’s number still remained, unblurred and in pristine condition. “Oh, oh yeah.” He let out a bark of a laugh. “Just avoided washing right there. I work in a  _ morgue  _ of course I wash my hands, a lot. Almost too much.” 

Jimmy nodded, “I’m glad you called.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Brian said. “I’m not a complete jerk, no matter what Bev tells you. Plus, you seem like a cool guy. Bees, aside.” Brian punctuated this with a completely not thought out wink. Jimmy just smiled, sipping on the last dregs of his coral colored drink. 

Brian pinched his own thigh under the table when their waitress set down their food in front of them.  _ Not a date.  _ She left them, shouting to her boss that she was heading out for a smoke break, and they ate in comfortable silence. He hoped that they would remain in contact despite the distance as they exchanged humorous stories (and some more flirtatious jokes from Jimmy’s half of the table, all of them leaving Brian trying to not choke on his own lemonade) even after their plates were cleared. Jimmy stole exactly seven fries from Brian, but Brian let it slide, just counting silently. 

“It’s getting late,” Jimmy said, checking his watch. “I should probably get going.” 

“I have a pull out couch,” Brian said before his brain could rightfully veto the action. Jimmy eyed him. “I mean, if you don’t feel like making the drive.” His brain told him to shut up, but there was a certain lack of autonomy between his mind and mouth. 

“That’s sweet, but I’m cat-sitting for a friend,” Jimmy responded. Brian tried not to let on his disappointment, his smile only faltering for the briefest of seconds. 

“Nah, man, all good,” Brian replied, swallowing loudly. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

Jimmy smiled, setting a generous amount of money to cover their meals before exiting the diner. 

 

\-----

 

Brian padded through the halls of his apartment, shutting off the lights behind him. He closed the door to his bedroom, collapsing against the bed as he dialed Beverly’s number.

“Finish that fast?” Beverly answered, “What happened to the longevity of youth?” 

“Okay, I’m seven months younger than you so cut that ‘youth’ crap. Nothing happened.” 

“Did you not wear your glasses like I explicitly told you to? You have got to start taking my advice.” 

“I did,” Brian responded sheepishly, taking off said glasses and rubbing his eyes with his wrist. “Bev, I told you it was a friendly dinner. As in friends having dinner. Dinner with a friend.” 

“Friend my ass,” She huffed, and Brian swore that if she was there in person she would slap him. “When I first met you I didn’t immediately gush and write my number on your hand like I was in middle school.” 

“Did you gush later?” He teased, letting out a short laugh. 

“Fuck off. Where’s Prince Charming now?” 

“He went back to D.C.,” Brian responded, aware of how dejected he sounded and resenting himself for it. 

“Ouch,” Beverly said, jokingly. “Maybe you didn’t make that good of an impression.” 

Brian groaned, “Shut up. I offered him to crash at my place but he had to cat-sit.” 

“Oh, man!” Beverly laughed. “Can’t believe you said that on the first date.” 

“Not a date,” Brian repeated. 

“Whatever you say. I gotta go,  _ Naked and Afraid  _ just started,” Beverly said. “Catch ya on the flipside, Zeller.” 

Brian laughed as said his quick goodbye, hanging up. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard and resting his hands on his stomach. He dozed off quickly and when he awoke the next morning, he swore he had heard bees buzzing in his dreams. 

 

\-----

 

Brian went into the work the next day deliriously tired. He had tossed and turned throughout the night until he finally gave up and held onto his pillow like it was a person (a non specified person) and was able to snore soundly throughout the night (or the four remaining hours of the night). He trudged through the hallways, rubbing at his eyes from below his glasses. 

“You look like shit,” Beverly said, handing him a coffee as she began walking alongside him towards the morgue. He mumbled a thanks before chugging half of the scalding liquid, praying it would wake him up slightly. 

“Jack say anything about our workload?” Brian asked, taking a brief pause before going in for more coffee. He  _ needed  _ to wake up if the possibility of sewing bodies was even remotely on the table (which there was a high possibility of).  

“Nope, just filing and meaningless tasks that remind me of the joy that is working for the government,” Beverly responded, taking a large sip of her own coffee. Brian sent a quick thanks to any god above him, finishing off the last of his cup. They walked into their cramped office, carefully meandering around scattered papers, a full bin of garbage that Brian  _ really  _ needed to take out, and green streamers still up from Saint Paddy’s day (per Beverly’s request that they decorate for every major  _ and  _ minor holiday). He plopped down in his creaky spinning chair, resisting the urge to bang his head on the desk as he logged into his very old desktop. 

“I’d ask what kept you up all night but I already know the answer,” Beverly said, spinning in her own chair to face him. “The very sad answer.” 

“Least I wasn’t watching  _ Naked and Afraid  _ by myself,” Brian said, trying to defend himself.

“Touch é ,” Beverly replied, shrugging. 

Brian smiled, reaching into his desk drawers and pulled out a stack of paperwork that needed to be completed. Sometimes, although he wasn’t quite sure where he stood on the whole God debate, he gave thanks to whatever power was above him for planning these quiet work days to correspond with particular headache inducing moods of his. He scrawled and scribbled out report after report, a machine spitting out autopsy notes while Beverly handled the more conscious necessary task of finding acupuncture clinics in the surrounding area, anything for them to work off of. He glanced at his slowly shrinking stack of manila envelopes and let out a sigh.

“Any luck on your end?” he asked Beverly. She gave a tired hum which roughly translated to ‘ _ kiss my sweet ass’  _ as she continued scrolling through acupuncture Yelp reviews. He stretched out his arms and stood up, meandering over to her much messier desk. He spotted a box of tissues utilized as a makeshift granola bar wrapper garbage bin and stifled a laugh. He thought  _ he  _ was messy. But who was he to judge when what was once a ‘donation box’ became a stool for dirty laundry that was weeks past a washing. 

“Need help?” he asked, leaning against her desk and avoided knocking over three empty (empty-ish) coffee cups. 

“Oh, you mean doing your job?” she replied, writing down a few names on a stained notepad. 

“Hey, who was just doing all that paperwork!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Beverly rolled her eyes. “Want a pat on the back? Nice big smooch on your cheek?” 

“Okay, you need snacks pronto.” Brian stood up, reaching into his bag and grabbing his wallet. He headed down the hall to the departmental break room (which, on par for the FBI, was a slate gray with a billboard of ‘have you seen me’ and ‘most wanted’ posters right alongside years old notices for the annual Christmas party). He punched in the numbers, buying a bag of Tim’s salt and vinegar for himself and both a bag of beef jerky and a Hershey’s bar for Beverly. 

He tossed her her snacks when he got back to their cramped office, her eyes momentarily lighting up. 

“I was feeling generous,” he said, mouth full of chips. 

“Thanks, asshole,” she replied, grin on her face as she tore into the jerky. 

“Ouch,” He held up his hand to his chest, wincing as he fell back into his chair. “You wound me!” 

 

\-----

 

Brian plopped down on his sofa, beer in his hand and pants thrown off somewhere in the hallway. He yawned, scratching his scraggly chin, before blindly reaching for the remote that was lodged somewhere in the cushions. After finding it he turned on the TV, flipping through the channels before deciding on a rerun of  _ I Love You, Man.  _ He balanced his beer bottle on his soft belly, amusing himself for a second before coming to the sad realization that despite once passing the FBI physical exam he  _ really  _ needed to get to the gym. He grabbed the bottle on his stomach, nursing it as he ran a hand under his shirt and across his chest. 

He laid back further, head lolling against the back of the sofa and turning to the side slightly. Brian looked at the empty space next to him, sighing and wondering when a warm body would join him and laugh at dumb movies with him. Wondered when he would wake up, nose pressed into the other’s chest, inhaling their natural scent and thinking of only good things. He took a long, languid sip of his beer and thought how impractical and impossible him maintaining a relationship would be. He couldn’t even keep his houseplant alive. It still sat in his windowsill, looking out onto the drab parking lot with its brown leaves falling around the pot. 

Brian set the bottle down, mindlessly watching Paul Rudd on the screen, not listening to whatever he was telling Jason Segel. He remembered the last time he went on a date—not the not-date with Jimmy because that did  _ not  _ count—and how it ended with his long time girlfriend breaking up with him. He thought he was going to marry her and he didn’t even believe in marriage. But, his family was so pleased when he brought her home, his sisters instantly fawning over her and his mom showing her baby photos of Brian at T-ball practice. His dad even looked up from his hockey game to somewhat introduce himself. He really thought she was the one until she revealed she was moving to California with her roomate (who he found out later on Facebook was actually her girlfriend, he wondered if that happened pre-breakup or post-breakup, he had full faith she waited at least twelve hours before she started dating her roomie). But that was back in medical school and Brian was now in his mid-thirties and very much alone. 

He looked at the plant in his window, eyes moving in tandem with flashes of ambulances and changing street lights outside his apartment complex, and let out a sigh. The orange of the street lamp in the parking lot flooded into his cramped living room, adding a stale ambiance to his darkening mood and home. 

Brian shut off the TV, set his now empty bottle on his cluttered coffee table, before getting up and padding over to his dusty record player. His hands ran over the vinyls he owned, stored in a crate he found by the complex’s dumpster, before settling on his worn down, tattered copy of Buzzcocks’  _ Love Bites _ . The strings of the guitar and thumping of the drums of  _ Real World _ filled his apartment. He exhaled, cracking his back and began swaying softly to the music, his socked feet tapping along to the lyrics. 

“ _ I’m in love with somebody _ ,” he sang under his breath, eyes closed and head bobbing, “ _ I wish somebody was in love with me too _ .” He continued moving his head, smile filling his face and eyes closed, blocking out the world around him and relaxing for the first time in months. His back was strained but as the song continued, he felt just some of the tension leave. 

As the song changed to  _ Ever Fallen In Love _ , the upbeat tempo putting more of a spring in his clumsy steps, his phone went off. Brian reached for it, seeing Jack’s caller ID across the top. 

“We found another body,” Jack said without greeting, the song in the background almost drowning him out. “Crime scene already photographed, meet us at the lab in forty.” Jack hung up without waiting for Brian to agree (not that he could disagree). 

“I was  _ this  _ close to getting to relax,” Brian said to the empty room, before shutting off the record player and getting ready to go into work — he checked his phone for the time — at 9:43p.m. He shrugged on his jacket, keys between his teeth as he shut the door after him, double checking his pockets for his wallet and anything else he needed. He wondered, as he drove through the darkened streets, if it was another bee related case. He morbidly half hoped it was, if only to see Jimmy once more. He’d briefly thought of the older entomologist more than he cared to admit, even to himself, in the week since he’d last seen him. He didn’t have much to work with, having only just met Jimmy and spending roughly three hours with him, but there was something about his energy that Brian had stuck to. That snarky positivity that Jimmy radiated, stuck to Brian like bees to honey. 

He slapped himself at the red light, lightly stinging his cheek to shake himself out of the spiral he was headed towards. 

“I cannot believe I just made a bee pun about some man I barely know,” Brian told his reflection in the rearview mirror. He matched his stare back, seeing the tiredness seeping out of his pores. His facial hair was venturing into depression beard zone and he made a note to clean it up the next morning (or afternoon, knowing Jack would probably keep them late into the night or early morning). He tore his eyes away from his sad reflection and focused on driving, all thoughts of Jimmy left at the last stoplight. 

 

\-----

 

“Well, this is a doozy,” Jimmy said, pulling on plastic gloves. Brian stared at him, brain working at 1% of his normal speed. Jimmy just smiled back at him, mischievous glimmer behind a borrowed pair of goggles. Brian’s mouth twitched into what felt like a smile in return. 

“Earth to Zee,” Beverly clapped his back, shaking out of his zombie-esque state. She handed him a steaming mug of breakroom coffee, smirk on her face. Brian’s eyes moved between Jimmy and her, feeling as if he was caught in some perverse act. 

“Tired,” he mumbled, bringing the cup to his mouth. 

“We all are, Zeller,” Jack interrupted, arms crossed. “Doesn’t mean we can slack off.” 

Brian nodded, taking a large gulp of coffee before setting it down. Jack looked all too well rested for his liking, it wasn’t  _ fair _ . 

In front of them laid another bee stung, honey covered body. A woman appearing to be in her late 60’s, skin mottled and red from multiple punctures, yet covered in a bronze sheen. Isabelle Carver was also lobotomized, head filled with a new system of wax and hexagonal combs. Her eyes were frozen in a state of fear that woke Brian up from any remaining drowsiness he was clinging to. Cause of death also from fever or infection, just like Duncan Holloran. He began work on inspecting the angry marks where needles were inserted. The three of them worked in a comfortable silence, making Brian think of how much a natural fit Jimmy was into their dysfunctional family. 

“Katz,” Jack said, “think we should follow up on your lead?” 

“Lead?” Jimmy and Brian asked in unison. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Jimmy turn to him, egging him on with a smile or even a fist bump. But Brian remained neutral and stone faced, listening to Jack. 

“Acupuncture,” Beverly gave without supporting context. Jack just nodded. Brian felt completely lost, as if all the previous days he spent working on this case were suddenly wiped from his memory.  

“Acupuncture…” Brian mumbled, half in agreeance and half trying to jog his memory, “Right! Acupuncture, the needle marks.” 

“Glad you’re finally beginning to join us, Zeller,” Jack said to him, voice heavy with annoyance. Brian just meekly smiled, somewhat ashamed he was flat out failing at his job at the moment. Beverly looked like she was holding back a laugh, he suspected she’d be giving him a hard time at the end of the day. Jimmy too looked like he was biting his cheek, mouth twisted awkwardly to hold back a laugh at Brian’s expense.  

“I traced back Holloran to an acupuncture place 40 minutes South,” Beverly explained, “Carver here also frequented the place.”

“We’re going to go question her, see if she lets any information slip,” Jack said. 

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Jimmy said, smile wide like a cat who just ate the canary. “Mind if I join, Jack?” 

Jack nodded. “You three be ready in twenty. Wrap this up.” He casually walked out of the lab, broad shoulders growing smaller as he moved farther from them. 

Jimmy cleaned up his portion of the mess, wiping up the excess honey drops and shrugging off his borrowed lab coat. Beverly and Brian got to work on storing the body, Brian snipping any overly long threads from when he sewed up incisions. 

The drive to the acupuncture place was relatively quiet, sans Jack filling Jimmy in on the procedure. He sat in the front seat, eyes lit up with excitement as Jack explained his role (to stay towards the back, behind Brian and Beverly, in case something went awry). Brian watched him, his brain idle and peaceful, and examined the wrinkles by Jimmy’s eyes: signs of a life filled with laughter and even hints of pain. The early morning sun shone through the window, lighting up half of Jimmy’s face and filtering through his closely cropped hair. Brian thought for the briefest of seconds how handsome he was, before turning his head to stare out the window of the FBI’s SUV and ignore the way his heart started to speed up. 

Beverly elbowed him a moment later, catching Brian’s wandering eyes and mouthed three words, ‘ _ You like him’.  _ He tried his best to warp his face into a questioning ‘ _ what are you talking about?’  _ but he knew by the way his eyes continued lingering on Jimmy’s profile, he was giving himself away. Brian bit back a smile, thinking that maybe he’d allow himself to harbor a small attraction (crush, if he was a middle school girl maybe) towards someone that he’d likely not see again once the case was wrapped up. 

The car came to a halt, startling Brian and forcing him to pay attention to his surroundings and not the hints of blonde still in Jimmy’s gray hair. 

“We’re here,” Jack let them know before opening the door. Brian could see Jimmy trying to not smile, force his face to resemble a professional and serious expression. It was cute, Brian thought, the sheer excitement that Jimmy had, not just with catching serial killers but everything he talked about was tinged with happiness and wonder. It made Brian think of his early days in the FBI, how enthused he once was. Now, he just hoped that handcuffing a bad guy would fill him with some level of ‘ _ you’re doing a good thing, don’t forget that’ _ . 

Brian followed Beverly towards the front door of the townhome, nestled between slate gray apartment buildings and vegan coffee shops. A faded, eggshell white sign barely moved in the summer breeze. The curtains were drawn shut, but a yellow glow let them know someone was inside. There was the faintest sweet smell tickling Brian’s nose. Jack knocked on the door, the glass distorting the image of a person coming towards them. 

The door swung open, revealing a mousy woman in her late 50’s. Her smile was off, Brian thought. 

“Katherine Pimms?” She nodded. “I’m special agent Jack Crawford with the FBI. This is agents Zeller and Katz. We’d like to speak to you about two of your former patients.”

“Would you like to come in?” She asked, smile growing wider and tighter. Jack led them in, Beverly before Brian, who made sure to frequently look at Jimmy and make sure he was safe and not too visibly uncomfortable. Inside the unsuspecting townhome were dozens of shelves stocked with jars of honey. Brian blinked, taking in the expansive amount of honey. He met Jimmy’s eyes, who seemed to also be taking in the strange predicament. Vines twirled around the shelves, accenting the golden filled mason jars. It’d be beautiful, Brian mused, if his gut wasn’t so uneasy at the notion of this woman being a killer. 

Brian and Jimmy moved to where Jack was seated on the loveseat, questioning Pimms as she explained the numerous diseases that her former patients suffered from. Beverly was stood behind Jack, arms crossed and eyebrows raised as she listened to Pimms talk. Jimmy slid into the spot next to Jack, eyes still flitting around the room at the jars of honey. Brian bit his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the wonder in his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the interrogation and his job at hand. 

“I find that, uh,” Pimms said, eyes wondering to the ceiling briefly as she gathered her words, “people don’t get their own way. Because, um.” Her hands were clasped together in her lap and she seemed all too calm. “They often don’t know themselves where that way leads.” 

The four of them watched her intensely as she continued, “Mr. Halloran, he couldn’t envision a dignified end of life. So, it’s much better to die, well, for him to die in a meadow, a head full of bees.” Her voice was flat and even, calmness seeping into every word. She sounded, almost, at peace with her actions. 

Jimmy twiddled his thumbs, head nodding and face visibly uneasy as she admitted her crime. Brian just felt shocked, expecting to come in guns blazing and struggling to even get a tangible word they could use. He locked eyes with Beverly across the room and knew they’d be remembering this mild mannered lady the next few times they went out drinking. 

“Have you tried the honey?” Pimms asked, making Brian ashamedly think of his earliest interaction with Jimmy. Jimmy’s eyes shot up to Brian’s profile, also reliving the moment.

“No,” Jack responded. 

Pimms let out a whisper of a giggle, “I couldn’t bring myself to either. It seemed too morbid.” 

Jimmy nodded his head along, face filled with amusement almost, his mouth half opened as if saying ‘ _ ah _ ’. 

“So, you left him in the field to die?” Jack asked. 

“I brought him to the field to die,” Pimms corrected, shaking her head. “I didn’t kill him. I quieted his mind so that he could die in peace.” 

“And Mrs. Carver? You quieted his mind too?” Beverly asked. Pimms just nodded, smile never faltering as she was handcuffed. 

“I protected them, I protected these people from hopelessness,” Pimms continued as they read her her rights and walked her the police car they called in. “And that’s beautiful.” The car door closed in her face as she said her final words. 

Jimmy was leaned against the FBI car, arms crossed and shaking his head slightly when Brian walked up to his side. 

“This does  _ not  _ bode well for us beekeepers,” Jimmy sighed. Brian leaned his side against the car, smiling, as Jack and Beverly conversed with the local police.

“Long as there are no bodies in your backyard I think you’re in the clear.” 

Jimmy smiled back at him, rolling his eyes. 

“Enjoy your field trip?” Brian asked, smile still tacked onto his face as he listened to Jimmy’s response. The smile only faltered when Jack unlocked the SUV remotely, the beep of the car interrupting their small conversation. It was fully gone by the time they were all situated for their drive back to the bureau, Jimmy no longer talking to him and instead staring outside at the golden May day. 

 

\-----

 

It was well past dusk when they finished up the paperwork and processing. The stars shone above them, the moon washing them in peace and sleepiness. Brian took heavy steps towards his car after parting with Beverly (her parting involving a wink and mouthing ‘ _ get lucky’  _ when she saw him veering off towards Jimmy’s direction). Jimmy swung his arms next to him, wry smile on his face as he pointed out the big dipper. 

“Long drive back, wouldn’t mind having a sofa to crash on,” Jimmy not so subtly hinted, turning Brian’s ears pink. 

“Is this where I invite you to stay at my place?” Brian quipped back, toying with his car keys. 

“And this is where I accept,” Jimmy responded, voice even and eyes focused on Brian’s growing smile. “I’ll pay for pizza?” 

Brian pretended to think it over, exaggerating with a delayed response and a hand on his chin, “Deal. Follow my car.” 

Jimmy gave an equally exaggerated salute as he climbed into his car. Brian drove through the dim lit streets towards his apartment, his forever jammed copy of _69 Love Songs_ CD providing some noise distraction as he worked on autopilot. He checked to make sure he always saw Jimmy’s car following behind him as they drove through the quiet streets of Quantico, biting his lip to stop his childish smile from growing too large. He was an adult, after all, no need to get hung up on the idea of a seemingly single, flirtatious man staying the night as his place (God, it sounded pathetic even to him). After the longest ten minutes in Brian’s life, they pulled into his depressing apartment complex. 

“Nice bumper sticker,” Jimmy laughed as he slammed his door behind him, taking a few short steps to Brian’s side.

Brian groaned, forgetting about his ‘ _ Bigfoot is real and he tried to suck my dick’ _ sticker on the back of his car. “Gift from my sister out in Oregon.” Jimmy just smiled as he followed behind Brian. 

“Small town,” Jimmy said as they climbed up the few flights of stairs. 

“Makes me feel like I’m losing my mind,” Brian responded as he opened the door. “‘Least the commute isn’t bad.” 

“Cute place,” Jimmy hummed, kicking off his shoes near the door. He moved around Brian’s cramped living-room-slash-dining-room-slash-kitchen, taking in the milk crate of vinyls and dust covered medical books and comics. His finger traced a heavy line of dust off a once prized original copy of a Spiderman comic that Brian, clearly, hadn’t touched since purchase. 

“You don’t have to spare my feelings,” Brian said, hanging his messenger bag on a splintering coat rack he found at a thrift shop when he moved. “My place is a dump, told myself I was gonna upgrade to at least a condo, and out of Quantico itself, after a year.” 

“How long has it been?” Jimmy asked, crouched and fingering through Brian’s DVD collection. 

“Seven years.” 

Jimmy quipped an eyebrow at him, fingers stilled and incredulous look on his face as if personally offended by Brian’s lack of moving (or the expansive amount of B-Horror and Nicolas Cage movies he owned). 

“I don’t own anything good,” Brian said as he plopped down on the couch, watching Jimmy still rifle through his DVD crate. 

“I mean, Brian,  _ I’m  _ old and I haven’t seen most of these,” Jimmy laughed. He pulled out Brian’s copy of  _ Moonstruck,  _ clearly questioning it. 

“You haven’t seen  _ Moonstruck?”  _ Brian asked disbelieving, holding a hand to his heart as if he’d been personally wounded by Jimmy’s words. “That’s it, order some pizza and I’ll pop that bad boy in.” 

Jimmy rolled his eyes as he stood up and reached for his phone, “I’m an anchovies guy, you?” 

Brian pulled a face, fake gagged and responded, “Hawaiian. Half and half?” Jimmy just nodded as he called a local pizza chain. The pizza arrived right as the preview trailers ended, loading the title screen. 

“Now,” Brian began, flipping open the box and setting it down on the coffee table, “this movie is very sentimental and important to me, you can’t make fun of it.” 

“It’s got Cher and Nic Cage in it…” Jimmy said around a bite of pizza. “How do you expect me to not make fun of it?” 

“Easy,” Brian shrugged. “It’s good.” 

“You’re not going to burst out in tears are you?” Jimmy asked, to which Brian gave no reply. “Are you? Oh my god, you  _ are _ ,” he exaggerated his point by waving around his slice of pizza. “That’s just embarrassing for the both of us.” 

“I’m not saying I’m  _ not  _ going to cry,” Brian sheepishly responded, pressing play on the remote. The glittering moon filled the screen as the strings of Dean Martin’s  _ That’s Amore _ surrounded them (fuck, he was already getting emotional, that  _ was  _ embarrassing for the both of them). The camera flashed to shots of advertisement for the Metropolitan Opera,  _ ting-a-ling’s  _ accompanying the journey. 

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Cher and Nicolas Cage go to the opera?” Jimmy questioned, voice half-enthused and embarrassingly enraptured by Brian’s grin as he watched Cher move along the sidewalk. 

“Watch the movie,” Brian shushed, grabbing another slice of pizza. Jimmy just rolled his eyes, smiling against himself. 

“Did you join the FBI to look at dead bodies just like Cher?” Jimmy questioned, “Waiting for your Nic Cage to come sweep you off your feet?” Brian just groaned and didn’t dignify the question with a response (although secretly inside he wasn’t disagreeing).  He stared at Jimmy, smile on his face as he soaked in the movie, wondering if perhaps he could’ve accidentally stumbled upon his theoretical Nicolas Cage (both hands intact and possibly a little less psychologically messed up). Brian thought, hand scratching through his curls, that he himself would make an excellent Cher. 

They sat in silence, pizza digesting and twin smiles on their faces as they watched the tumultuous relationship grow between Cher’s Loretta and Cage’s Ronny. Char walked into the bakery, Cage sweaty and pouring over his craft. Brian could feel tears prickling in his eyes, sticking to his lashes as Cage quickly took off the glove covering his wooden hand. Silence ebbed between him and Jimmy as Cage explained his accident, rambling on about not paying attention and Johnny wanting bread.

“ _ I lost my hand! I lost my bride!”  _ Cage shouted, pointing at his wooden hand on screen for emphasis. Brian let out a sniff, blinking rapidly to not be caught crying. 

“Oh my god,” Jimmy exclaimed, rapidly turning towards Brian. “You’re crying.”

“It’s emotional!” Brian tried to defend, rubbing at his wet eyes with his arm. “Frankly, how are you  _ not  _ crying?” 

Jimmy chuckled, “Because Nicolas Cage is blaming his brother for inadvertently cutting off his hand.  _ Nicolas Cage _ ,” he emphasized once more. 

“Heartless,” Brian sniffed again, trying to pull a wounded face. “Plus, Nic Cage doesn’t get the credit he deserves.” 

“Like?” Jimmy prompted. They were both completely ignoring the movie at that point. Which Brian, as much as he loved the movie, didn’t mind. 

Brian shrugged, and sheepishly responded, “He’s kinda talented. Plus, not too bad on the eyes.” 

Jimmy stared at him in silence. It continued for a few more moments before he dejectedly sighed, “You think, let me get this straight — well, not  _ straight  _ — you think, Nicolas Cage is… hot?” 

“I… I, I mean?” Brian looked at his hands, nervous smile on his face. “You don’t?”

“No, I have standards,” Jimmy responded, then whispered under his breath, “Or at least I thought I did.” 

“Okay, to be fair, let me explain.” 

“This should be good.” 

Brian rolled his eyes before continuing, “I watched this movie with my mom when I was like, eleven. In my mind I kept confusedly thinking, ‘hmm, is it normally this hot when a guy is baking bread, getting all sweaty and shit, our normal bread baker isn’t hot?’ Y’know, this movie caused quite the dilemma for eleven year old Brian,  _ very _ awkward watching this with my mom. And, of course, we watched it  _ a lot _ .” Brian shrugged. “So I guess you could say, y’know,  _ maybe _ , it might be a stretch, but, uh, maybe Nic Cage was my bi-awakening.” 

“Oh my,” Jimmy inhaled before breaking into loud laughs. Brian sheepishly smiled, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck and trying his hardest not to immediately turn bright red. Right at that moment, he kind of wished a hole would open in his third story apartment and he’d fall into it. Cher was going through a makeover sequence on screen. 

“Is that your normal type, then,” Jimmy asked, “sweaty bread boys?” 

“Nah, I don’t tend to have a type,” Brian answered. He looked into Jimmy’s eyes and knew he just told the world’s biggest lie. His type was snarky, matched his wit and put him in his place, gave him shit with a fond look on their face, shorter than him but just enough that when they snuggled and watched bad movies they would hear Brian’s heartbeat, they were blonde and they knew they were too good for Brian but still he somehow managed to land them — he wondered if he’d manage to land Jimmy, who as time went on, Brian realized was  _ very  _ much his type. 

“Still,” Jimmy quipped, “kind of embarrassing.” 

Brian met his eyes and was met with nothing but warmth, jovial laughter behind blonde lashes and the premise of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He wouldn’t deign to entertain the idea that Jimmy could ever reciprocate his growing crush, and that was  _ fine  _ (really, his brain demanded, it was fine, it was cool, it was chill, it was any amount of synonyms for  _ nice _ — he could deal with it). 

“Maybe,” Brian finally responded, faking a nonchalant shrug as he thought that it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing about him. He could think of a handful just from the last month alone, his mind flashing to sweaty, late night wank sessions with  _ Jimmy  _ slipping out his mouth against his will, slipping in the shower while dancing to The Cure’s  _ Friday I’m In Love _ .

The movie continued on in the background, neither of them paying attention any more as Jimmy turned his body completely towards Brian, his hands clasped together and resting on his knee. Brian’s hand itched to dart out farther from his crooked, resting position on the back of the couch. He wanted to brush his knuckles up against Jimmy’s sweater clad arm. He needed to reign it in, he thought, curling his hand into a fist and dropping it behind the sofa. 

“See, for me,” Jimmy continued, motioning to himself, “I think my twin knew before me, y’know that twin telepathy bullshit. Kept hinting that Fred Jones was my favorite, when  _ clearly  _ like any rational kid watching _ Scooby Doo,  _ my favorite was Velma. Though,” Jimmy chuckled, “I’m probably Daphne, fussy old queen I am.” 

“Two things,” Brian said, “First, Fred is great, he’s the leader! Second, twin?” 

“Who wouldn’t want two of me?” Jimmy replied, accompanied with a wink that didn’t definitely catch Brian off guard for even a millisecond. 

Brian rolled his eyes to deflect, “Middle child is the sweet spot. Though, some mornings I wanted to kill my sisters when they hogged the one bathroom my family shared.” 

“I think I tried to kill my twin in the womb, but that’s neither here nor there.” 

“I’m guessing your twin was wrong about the crush on Fred, then?”

“Oh, no, he was very spot on about that,” Jimmy answered. “That’s the worst part about it. I mean, there we are ten years old and I’m thinking, ‘ _ I wish Fred would save me!’ _ It’s almost, not quite, but almost as bad as your whole Nic Cage thing.” Jimmy accidentally (it  _ had  _ to be an accident, Brian thought) tapped his foot against Brian’s knee. “Not really into blondes though.” 

“I am,” Brian said before he could think better of it. Jimmy just smirked, continuing to delve into stories about his youth and listing off every bone him and his brother broke pushing each other off of swings and teeter-totters. Brian just smiled, listening with rapt attention to Jimmy’s exaggerated sighs and rapid hand motions, listing off random factoids about bugs that flew around his childhood backyard. Brian just thought, as Jimmy was explaining a particular nasty fight he and his twin got into, how totally, one hundred percent, in control he was over his small (little, blink and you miss it small,  _ really _ ) crush on Jimmy. 

 

\-----

 

Jimmy scuttled around the halls of the Smithsonian, buzzing around like the busy bee he was. Under his left arm were a bursting folder of files that needed to be sorted (which is why they had an intern, luckily) and in his right was a steaming travel mug of Earl Gray with a hefty dollop of his own backyard farm fresh honey. If honey was considered fresh, that was, with the whole eternally preserved aspect. His eyes roamed over expansive collections of framed butterflies and moths, pinned so delicately and with such gentle precision. It never got old, he thought with an amused smile, the wonders that were the Natural History Museum. He could only hope that one day, someone with the initials B.Z. and the characteristics of an old man trapped inside a millenial’s body would eventually show up. It’d been four months since Jimmy had seen Brian (not that he was necessarily  _ counting,  _ more along the lines of just  _ noticing _ ). Two weeks since their last text conversation, when Jimmy had sent him a very forward picture of a sign he found in his favorite, quant, antiquity shop that read ‘ _ Bee Mine _ ’ to which Brian — daft as the day Jimmy had met him — responded ‘ _ how many of those things do you got already _ ?’ and a follow up ‘ _ LOL’,  _ that Jimmy definitely didn’t have to google the meaning of. He wondered if Brian really laughed out loud.

Jimmy set down the folder on their intern’s (Melissa? Melody? Melinda?) desk before plopping down in his own comfortably cozy office to start the brochure for their new entomology display. This fall’s display for the schools, how ironic, was the longevity and patterns of certain mating rituals most commonly found in insects. And, as if that wasn’t enough to bitter Jimmy’s old, sour heart, it was his turn to add the the facts and pictures of bugs in love. Jimmy spared a brief glance at his ring finger, before scowling and getting back to logging into his computer. His fingers clicked and clacked in the repetitive way that he’d grown so accustomed to and thought of when it would be his time. He stupidly believed that Brian would pick up on at least one of the literal hundreds of messages Jimmy was sending his way, but maybe it was time to face that fact that he wasn’t interested. Jimmy didn’t want to think that was the case, but, he  _ was  _ at least fifteen years older than Brian. Brian, even nearing his fourty year mark, still had time to have kids if he wanted to. Jimmy had a dying cactus and a hoard of bees he called his children. 

Jimmy reasoned with himself, he was okay with this. He’d grown accustomed to being single; it was rhythmatic and reliable.  He didn’t have to worry about someone else, didn’t have to set the table for two every night, didn’t have to squabble about what bad movie to watch, and no one would complain about him singing Dolly Parton in the shower. It was good for him, to ultimately end up alone. He took a sip from his mug, thinking ‘ _ well shit, now I’ve just made myself more upset _ .’ So what if he didn’t have a cheesy, bee themed card and a box of chocolates waiting for him when he got home from work on February 14th, he had his dream job. Wasn’t that enough? (He didn’t feel convinced). 

It wasn’t even the notion of marriage that got him so distraught, he never felt bitter being invited to a fellow colleagues lavish Spring wedding. It was the idea of domesticity, that’s what he longed for. The feeling of a partner, of someone who understood him completely. The feeling of wrapping his arms around someone in a shared bed, nose nuzzled up into dark curls, a pair of glasses greeting him every morning with a kiss as he handed Jimmy his morning coffee, still clad in blue plaid boxers. Shit, Jimmy thought, he was too old for a  _ crush _ . 

He idly thought of what Brian was up to, if he missed Jimmy or even thought of him once in a blue moon. Jimmy checked his phone, the lock screen displaying no notifications. He opened his text thread with Brian (‘Zeller 🤓’ in his phone) and itched to send him something. But, Jimmy closed his phone with a sigh, he didn’t want to come off even more desperate than he already was. He turned the sound on, though, just in case the bespectacled man did feel like reaching out. 

Jimmy filled the rest of his day with fun facts to show middle schoolers, flashy and colorful family friendly pictures of bugs more or less mating, and not another thought of Brian. Well, except for the brief moment where he opened his phone on his lunch break to continue listening to his audiobook and just happened to notice there were still no notifications. He half thought, bitterly, that perhaps he wouldn’t mind  _ too  _ much if another bug infested body was discovered and Jack called him back to Quantico to offer some expert assistance. He squashed that thought down, knowing how pitiful he sounded wanting a dead body to help him land a hot date. 

As the day drew to a close — sticky notes to coworkers strewn around the office spaces, fiery orange sunset following Jimmy out of the office and down the streets of D.C. — he ignored any more perched thoughts of romance and singledom, as if they were just a fly on the wall minding its own business (he didn’t have the heart to kill them now that he spent eight plus years studying the little buggers and all their distant cousins). Jimmy entertained himself with a rerun of a nature documentary and a generous amount of takeout Chinese food, situating himself on his spring green sofa and propping his takeout container on his knobbly knee. He picked at sweet and sour chicken, moving his shaky chopsticks around the sauce tinged pieces of broccoli and onions. 

His phone buzzed on his glass coffee table, distracting him from the narrator talking about the migration patterns of butterflies. Caller ID showed that it was Brian and he nearly knocked over his takeout scrambling for the phone.  _ Calm yourself,  _ he told himself while answering.

“Hey,” Brian’s voice came through the line. He sounded sleepy, but the gruffness and gravelly tone of his words was, in Jimmy’s expert opinion, one of the more attractive things about Brian. 

“Hey back,” Jimmy replied, smiling into the phone as he muted his television. 

“Sorry I haven’t reached out for a while,” Brian continued. “Gruesome murder case. Been keeping Bev and I at work real late.” 

“Oh, it’s okay. I haven’t really noticed,” Jimmy lied. 

“Ouch,” Brian said, rough chuckle sounding through the phone. Jimmy smiled, imagining the crinkles of Brian’s eyes, wondering if he was wearing his glasses at the moment. 

“Whatcha up to?” Jimmy asked. “Besides solving gruesome murder cases, that is.” 

“Same old, same old. You?” 

Jimmy stared at the silent documentary, watching a particularly ugly butterfly flap its wings about before finally taking off. “Oh, you know me. One adventure to the next.” He saw a speck of sweet and sour sauce on his hand and quietly licked it off. 

Brian laughed again, causing Jimmy to smile as he listened to the other man breath. He felt good. He felt happy. 

“You busy this weekend?” Brian asked. Jimmy heard a somewhat stifled gulp, imagining Brian taking a sip from a bottle of beer, condensation running down his hand and Adam’s apple bobbing. Jimmy blinked, shaking his head and focusing on the conversation. 

“This weekend?”

“Yeah, Bev and I are celebrating wrapping up the case we’ve been slaving away over. Wondered if you wanted to come?” Brian asked, almost sounding sheepish as he finished the question. 

“Sure,” Jimmy replied, smile growing larger. “I’ll bring some jammies and we can have a big boy sleepover.” 

“Sweet,” Brian said, and Jimmy could almost hear his grin through the line. “Just come to mine Friday.”

“Sweet,” He mirrored. “Can’t wait.” 

“Me neither,” Brian said, voice growing quieter. 

Jimmy refused to blush (he  _ was  _ a grown man after all) but he came pretty damn close listening to Brian laugh, going on about his week and lab antics with Beverly. Jimmy listened, adding his own quips here and there, all the while his food growing cold and his chest growing warmer. 

 

\-----

 

Jimmy was staring at him. Brian could feel the heat on the side of his face as he took another quick sip of his beer, looking anywhere but Jimmy’s intense gaze. His hands felt clammy, as one wrapped around the coldness of the bottle and the other ran up and down his thigh absentmindedly. He felt too warm under the fuzzy lighting of the bar, sweat sticking to his back in the early September warmth. He could have sworn he saw Jimmy smirk, but didn’t dare risk a full look at the other man. 

Beverly swayed back up to the table, slamming down three shots on their wobbly table. A drop of vodka found its way onto the stained wood. 

“I’m not even done with round one,” Brian said, setting down his bottle and grabbing a shot glass. Beverly handed the third to Jimmy, smile wide on her face and baby hairs stuck to her forehead. Brian counted at least five men who had already checked her out. 

“Oh, I’m good, thanks,” Jimmy responded, motioniong his hands in a ‘no thanks’ sort of gesture. 

“Party pooper!” Beverly laughed, tossing back her own shot and sliding Jimmy’s towards Brian. 

“AA,” Jimmy said, shrugging. 

“Well, fuck.” Brian paused, shot glass to his lips. “Now I feel like a shitty friend.” 

“Don’t worry.” Jimmy shrugged again, face still pleasantly smiling as he sat on the sticky barstool. “You just caught me on an off year. Honestly, just a side effect of being gay in the 80’s.” 

Brian and Beverly soberly nodded, hands holding empty shot glasses and feeling like the world champions of biggest dickheads. It wasn’t that uncommon of a feeling, but  _ that  _ moment took the cake. 

“Relax, you kids still have your fun,” Jimmy added, easy smile and shrugging. Brian nervously smiled back, bringing the bottle back to his lips. He caught Jimmy’s eye, who gave him a wink back innocently trying to ease Brian’s nerves but doing the exact opposite. Beverly not so slyly looked between the two, lips quirked in a smug smile as she twirled her empty shot glass around with her finger. 

“Okay,” Beverly grinned, dragging out her the word as she pushed back her barstool and stood. “Let’s get this party  _ re _ -started.” Beverly put her hands on her hips as she looked between the two men, Brian and Jimmy putting their hands up in a faux surrender. 

“And what does the lady request?” Brain said, cocky tone seeping into his words as he resisted rolling his eyes at the burgeoning tipsy friend in front of him. 

“Please no lap dances. I can’t be sober for that,” Jimmy joked. 

“Maybe if you get a few more shots in Brian he can give you one.” Beverly winked at Jimmy, who loudly laughed. Brian hid behind his beer bottle, rolling his eyes. “And no, no lap dances from either of you. It just so happens” (Brian began mimicking Beverly, causing Jimmy to snicker behind his hand) “to be Karaoke Friday!” Beverly threw her hands in the air. 

“Oh,  _ no.  _ Harsh n-o.” Brian shook his head. “Nuh-uh, last time we did karaoke you recorded me drunkenly singing Britney Spears and  _ then  _ showed  _ every  _ intern in the lab, gaining me zero respect from the twerps. You also showed Will, which made everything awkward for everybody, as if dealing with Will isn’t awkward enough.” 

“Oh, he’s not  _ that  _ bad,” Beverly argued to which Brian quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, he’s kinda bad. But, not like you had much respect anyways.” 

“You definitely have to now,” Jimmy added. “I need to see this. I’ll even pay for a round of shots for you two.” 

Beverly yelped, “Deal!” before running off to the counter and adding another order for her and Brian. 

“I regret this already and it’s all your fault,” Brian groaned as he pointed his new shot glass at Jimmy. He pushed himself back, standing up and somewhat angrily walking towards the makeshift karaoke section. He was a little too tipsy (leaning towards drunk, fuck, he missed being young), warmth spreading through his veins to be completely angry. He looked at his friends after selecting his one song of the evening, sending a quick wink leading Beverly and Jimmy to hollar and whoop. 

The plucky guitar strings filled the grimy bar as Brian haphazardly swayed, clutching the corded microphone in his hand. He could feel sweat on his neck as the ambient orange lights shined on him, he needed another shot to stop worrying how this was a terrible idea. 

“ _ I met her in a club down in North Soho,”  _ Brian squawked out, coughing into his hand before continuing, “ _ where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca Cola, C-O-L-A cola.”  _

He saw Beverly clapping and Jimmy nodding along, sending him a thumbs up that caused Brian to break out into smile as he continued through the song. He started getting into it, letting both  _ The Kinks  _ and the vodka take over his body as he tapped his foot off beat, shimmying around stage. His smile grew larger as he let loose. 

“ _ She picked me up and sat me on her knee,”  _ Brian sang, taking the short steps to where Beverly and Jimmy sat. He draped himself over Beverly, now in full boisterous cackle mode.“ _ And said ‘little boy won’t you come home with me?’ _ ” Beverly’s face was bright red as she pounded on the table as he continued on, goofy smile tacked to his face. He moved to twirl around Jimmy. Brian’s alcohol fuzzy brain told him this was a great idea.

“ _ Well, I’m not the world’s most passionate guy,”  _ He looked into Jimmy’s eyes, smile growing dimmer. “ _ But when I looked into her eyes, well I almost fell for my Lola.”  _ Jimmy joined in, smile faltering for a second before adding on and spelling out  _ L-o-l-a, Lola.  _

Brian hopped around some more on stage, letting the vodka completely take control of his motions: his flailing arms and shaking body, signature Brian dance moves. 

“ _ Well I left home just a week before,”  _ Brian nearly yelled, dropping to his knees and shaking his fist, causing Beverly and Jimmy to double over in laughter (Beverly, Brian saw before shutting his eyes to get  _ more  _ in the zone, nearly fell off her stool). “ _ And I’ve never ever kissed a woman before.”  _ He sent a wink Jimmy’s way, hopping back up and stepped towards his friends once more. “ _ But Lola smiled and took me by the hand.”  _ He grabbed Jimmy’s hand, holding it to his heart as he gruffly sang, “ _ And said, ‘little boy, gonna make you a man!’” _

Jimmy caught his eyes, smiling warmly at him for the rest of the song. Brian cheesily bowed as a small applause rang in his ears (from Beverly and Jimmy and a few more intoxicated older women, but he appreciated it nonetheless). 

“You next?” Beverly elbowed Jimmy. Jimmy smugly smiled, high fiving Brian as he left the stage and Jimmy replaced him. Jimmy whispered to the guy in charge of the karaoke station, bounce in his steps as he twirled the mic. Brian smiled, eyes crinkling as he watched the other man sway to silence in complete comfort. Gentle and bubbly guitar filled the bar, unfamiliar to Brian. 

“ _ Love is like a butterfly,”  _ Jimmy softly sang, tapping his fingers against his upper thigh. He began tapping his foot as the song continued, small smile as he looked out across the sleazy bar patrons. “ _ Love is like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing. _ ” 

Beverly gently nudged Brian’s foot under the table, causing him to give her a quizzical and confused look. She just rolled her eyes at his apparent obliviousness. 

“ _ I feel it when you’re with me, I feel it when you kiss me,”  _ Jimmy sang, stepping down from the stage with a leap. He swayed enthusiastically as Brian and Beverly wolf whistled him when he came closer to their table. Jimmy stopped in front of Brian, laying a finger on his shoulder. Brian repressed a shiver, feeling Jimmy so close to him and seeing such an intense stare from his blue eyes. “ _ Whenever I am with you, I think of butterflies.”  _ He twirled back around, winking at Brian who tried to awkwardly laugh it off. 

“You’re an idiot,” Beverly whispered to Brian, Jimmy now back on the stage and continuing the song. 

“We’re just friends,” Brian lied, knowing that what he just witnessed was a little past friendly and his feelings for Jimmy was  _ way  _ past friendly feelings. 

“You’re both idiots,” Beverly responded. “But more so you.” She stole the last swig of his beer. 

“ _ Your laughter brings me sunshine, everyday is springtime, and I am only happy when you are by my side,”  _ Jimmy continued, back on stage and tapping his hand against his thigh. He made eye contact once more with Brian, singing “ _ How precious is this love we share, how very precious sweet and rare, together we belong like daffodils and butterflies.”  _ Brian felt at a loss, just smiling up at Jimmy who’s eyes crinkled smiling in return. 

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Beverly said, swirling her empty shot glass around. 

“Neither am I,” Brian said under his breath. He felt his stomach drop, scowl overtaking his smile as he began thinking of his feelings for Jimmy (definitely not drunk enough for this). He didn’t think it would be this bad, flashing back to when Jimmy scrawled his number on Brian’s hand, wondering how it progressed from innocence to genuine feelings of ‘this could work’. They barely even knew each other and yet here Jimmy was flat out confessing his strong feelings for Brian (and Brian had sang a song about a crossdresser, great). He looked at his empty shot glass in front of him and knew he was too sober to handle any of this. The realization of how strong his own feelings were hit him like a baseball bat to the head, right out of left field. 

“Well, fuck me,” Brian muttered under his breath, only to feel a hand on his shoulder as Jimmy had returned from the stage, Brian not even realizing he’d finished.

“Maybe if you buy me dinner first,” Jimmy replied with an easy laugh and wink. Brian tried to chuckle, his voice feeling stilted and trapped as he tried to mutter out a response that wasn’t just a shaky laugh. 

“Okay,” Beverly drew out with a sigh, “I’ve got to use the little girls’ room.” She turned and walked off, wanting to free herself of the awkward situation. Brian watched her go, shooting daggers with his hazy eyes as she left him stranded.  _ Some wingwoman _ , he thought. 

“I, uh,” Brian coughed into his arm, “I liked the song.” 

Jimmy’s face split into a gleeful, childish, adorable — and every other synonym Brian’s drunken mind could formulate — smile. “Thanks. Dolly and I are two old queens, only fitting I’d pay her homage.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Yours was good, too,” Jimmy added, motioning to Brian with his right hand. Brian looked at it, wondering what it would like entwined with his own. 

“Oh? Oh, yeah, thanks.” Brian forced his mind away from his  _ friend’s  _ hand and back on the conversation. “Yeah, go-to song.” 

“You were very enthusiastic.” He paused. “It was cute.” 

If Brian were sober he’d effectively fight off a blush, he was a grown man well into his thirties, damn it. He cracked a smile, ducked his head, and felt his cheeks grow warm. Running a hand through his sweaty curls, he tried to gather his words. Beverly came back just in time to save him. Jimmy’s eyes, the same mischievous glint in his eyes that Brian noticed when they first met, were fixated on him the entire time. 

“You two lovebirds ready to go?” Beverly asked, putting her jacket on. “I’m drained.” 

“You didn’t even sing,” Brian said in a petulant voice. “So not fair I had to, and it was your idea.”

“Had to?” Jimmy snorted. “You enjoyed every moment of it.” Brian stuck his tongue out as his response, causing Jimmy to snort once more. 

“You couldn’t handle  _ this _ ,” she motioned to herself, “singing to you. Barely made it thro—”

“Fine,” Brian cut her off before she could finish her sentence, her smirk giving away where it was headed. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

Jimmy stood, swinging his keys around his pointer finger, “Let’s go kids.”

“Who are ya calling kid?” Brian mumbled, stumbling off his stool. 

“Easy there tiger,” Jimmy said, wrapping an arm around Brian’s waist to lead him out of the bar, Beverly on their tail. 

Brian resisted leaning down to rest his head on Jimmy’s shoulder as they exited the bar, the stars above them putting Brian into a warm, fuzzy state of mind. He thought of  _ Moonstruck, _ his unruly curls, damp with sweat. The turbulence of Jimmy’s past struggles with alcoholism and the bumpy path they were metaphorically embarking on as they slipped deeper and deeper into a romcom. 

“I’m Cher,” Brian breathed, meaning to keep it to himself. 

“Hm?” Jimmy asked, his eyes searching Brian’s face in the dark. They walked in front of Beverly, a few feet back with her hands in pockets of her leather jacket and looking every bit the badass sidekick to Brian’s romantic comedy lead. 

“Nothing.” He shook his head, staring at the stars above. 

“Sounded like you said you’re Cher,” Jimmy teased. They stopped in front of Jimmy’s car. 

“ _ Moonstruck _ ,” Brian replied with a wistful tone. He looked for the Big Dipper, relishing in the warmth of Jimmy’s arm around him in the muggy late summer evening. 

“Could’ve fooled me with your facial hair,” Jimmy said, turning to Brian and grabbing his scruffy chin with his other hand. “Real Nic Cage leading material.” 

Brian felt the strong grip on his chin and thought that he’d go to the ends of the Earth to feel Jimmy’s mouth against his own. Thought of the sweat dripping down his neck, half nerves and half East coast weather. The distance between them was so short that Brian could trip over himself and land perfectly aligned with Jimmy. He swore he saw Jimmy lean in, hopefully thinking the same thing as Brian. His eyes fluttered shut, counting down in his head until when he’d feel Jimmy pull his face closer. He needed to be told what to do, in order to not embarrass himself, and he thought Jimmy would silently give him direction. Until he heard a cough behind the two of them, forcing Brian’s eyes to shoot open and for Jimmy to drop his hand, unlocking the car and going around to the other side. Brian tried to reach out for Jimmy, knowing there was nothing he could do. 

The three of them drove in comfortable silence, soft oldies coming through Jimmy’s car stereo. Brian’s head rested against the window, orange and yellow street lamps flickering over him as he fought against drowsy eyes. Beverly laid sprawled in the backseat, soft snores until they got to her place. She leaned forward, planting a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and a peck on Brian’s cheek. 

“Sure she’ll be okay?” Jimmy asked, watching and waiting for her to get inside her townhome. Brian just hummed, thinking of how much more of an adult Beverly was than him. He couldn’t be too sure, Beverly wouldn’t reveal her age (just her birthday, sans the year) and blocked all access attempts to her files. 

Brian turned on his other side, discreetly staring at Jimmy from under his eyelashes as they continued back to Brian’s place. He took in the gentleness of Jimmy’s features, softened as he relaxed and quietly sang along to the radio. The Beach Boys’  _ Wouldn’t It Be Nice  _ filling the empty spaces of the car and bringing an auditory lightness to the dark of the streets. Flashes of yellow lit up Jimmy’s face, washing him in an almost tired yet peaceful glow. 

“I know I’m handsome but this is getting out of hand,” Jimmy said, turning down the radio. 

“I liked that song,” Brian mumbled, deflecting from the previous statement. Jimmy turned it back up to catch the last few lyrics, bringing a sleepy smile to Brian’s face.  Brian’s eyes closed, occasionally opening just to steal another (and another, and another, and another) glance at Jimmy’s focused face. 

Brian felt the car come to a stop, rubbed at his eyes and got out, sticking himself to Jimmy’s side once more as they silently climbed the steps to Brian’s apartment. Jimmy took Brian’s keys from his pocket, jiggling open the door and flipping on a light switch. 

“I’ll take the couch,” Brian mumbled, starting to move in that direction. 

“Bri, I’m not gonna take your bed,” Jimmy said, grabbing Brian’s wrist. “Go to bed, I’ll be fine on the couch.” 

“You’re my guest.” Brian yawned. “It’s polite.”

Jimmy smiled at him, “You’re sweet. Now, go to bed.” 

Brian looked at him, gathering the will to move down the hall to his bedroom. Their eyes met and Brian was violently thrust back into the moment they shared outside the bar. He wondered what would have happened if Beverly hadn’t been there, if they would have sealed the gap. 

Brian licked his lips, gathering a pillow and blanket for Jimmy to use before going back to his cold, lonely room, the thought of warm arms holding him accompanying him as he drifted off to sleep. 

 

\-----

 

Brian tossed and turned for months afterwards, a hauntingly lonely feeling accompanying him in the dark. He’d sigh, stare at his phone as the numbers shifted from 3:11a.m. to 3:12a.m., and wonder what was wrong with him. Ever since that night back in September, since that almost kiss, he’d find himself awake until nearly four at least three nights a week. It was some sort of fucked up cycle where he’d get one good night of sleep, fuzzy and yellow tinted dreams of spring meadows and fucking dew on the morning grass, only for the next night to have a repetitive ‘ _ alone _ ’ drill his head in till he choked down a sleeping pill and cursed his alarm that went off exactly two hours and forty-six minutes later. 

“You look like shit,” Beverly said to him one morning as he slid into his chair, bag slumped on his shoulder from when he ran out of his house in a half asleep stupor.

“Feel like it too,” he replied somberly. He blindly reached for the coffee cup Beverly had left on his desk, she’d been noticing the dark circles under his eyes. 

“What’s up, then?” Beverly asked, spinning to face him fully. 

“‘Dunno,” he lied. Of course he knew, he just didn’t want to admit it. It might become real if he admitted his feelings for Jimmy, there wasn’t really anything he could do. 

“Bullshit.” 

“No really, it’s nothing,” Brian continued. “I’ve got it under control. Nothing’s wrong, everything is fucking peachy.” He scratched his chin, he needed to shave before he got another depression beard. 

“Another lie,” Beverly responded, rolling her eyes. “Tell me before Jack gets h—” 

“Tell you what before Jack gets here?” Jack asked, the door swinging open with a thud as it hit the wall, announcing his overbearing presence. 

“Nothing,” Brian said, sitting up from where he had been slouching in his chair. 

“Sure doesn’t sound like nothing, but I don’t want to hear what it is.” Jack set down a folder on Brian’s desk. 

“Brian is in love with Jimmy,” Beverly interjected. “He just doesn’t have the balls to admit it.”

Jack remained silent, giving nothing but the smallest ‘ _ mm’ _ as he turned back towards the door.

“I am  _ not _ ,” Brian urged, feeling like a petulant child. 

“Deal with it over dissection.” The door unnecessarily slammed behind Jack as he left. 

“It’s really nothing,” Brian tried to defend, leafing through the folder in front of him — information on the cold, gray body waiting for them in the morgue. “It’s stupid really, to be worried this much about it.”

“Oh, I am  _ not  _ worried about you, let’s clear that up,” Beverly said. “I’m worried about the impending headache I’m going to have for days,  _ weeks _ on end from you whining like the little bitch you are.” 

Brian stammered, mouth gaping and wanting to defend himself — defend his pride, his manhood — but was left with silence and a snickering coworker. 

“So what was it?” Beverly continued, “His dazzling blue eyes? The sweaters over button ups? The recovering alcoholic brand of humor? Tell me.” 

“Sounds like  _ you’re  _ the one who’s into him,” Brian mumbled, arms crossing defensively. 

“Puh-lease.”

“Bev, c’mon,” Brian said, shrugging on his lab coat. “There’s nothing exciting to it. He’s nice, I got attached and developed a stupid crush. It’s not like it could feasibly go anywhere. Same shit as always.” 

“God, you are so depressing.” She followed after him, heading towards the lab. It smelled like it’d just been cleaned, but he knew the overpowering artificial lilac scent wouldn’t last long. “Just go to D.C., it’s not like he lives a plane ride away.” 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by the simple suggestion as he snapped his lab goggles on. The body had been wheeled in, toes poking out of the sheet. 

“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” Beverly quipped. “Drive to D.C., surprise him. Please tell me this isn’t the first time this idea has occured to you.”

He scratched the back of his neck, lying, “No, of course not.” 

 

\-----

 

“This is fucking stupid,” Brian whispered under his breath, shifting his car into park and shutting off the engine. There had been sun in his eyes the entire drive, dead bugs on his windshield, and he was partially hung over. He needed some liquid encouragement to go through with his and Beverly’s half baked plan. He got his rumpled ticket and headed towards the Smithsonian. He felt like an ant walking into the museum, assimilating into a colony of snot nosed school children and weary teachers. The problem, he realized as he stood looking at the giant elephant in front of him, was that he had no idea how he was even going to find Jimmy in the mass of people and levels of the museum. He felt like an even bigger idiot than usual.

Shrugging, he figured wandering around would eventually lead to him. Or, even better, the information desk he saw out of the corner of his eye. 

He nervously tapped the desk, “Is there by any chance a way I could find, uh, Jimmy — James? — Price?” 

The woman looked at him before giving him vague directions. He awkwardly smiled and thanked her. Back to plan A, he thought as he began looking around and taking in the multitude of exhibits, as if he was a kid again. He located some stairs, slowly moving and finding himself enraptured by the displays. He took his time meandering around the second floor, hoping that if he neared the butterfly display he’d happen to run into Jimmy. 

He was having a stare down with a particularly mean looking taxidermied rhino when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Without looking, he figured it was someone trying to also see the stuffed glory in front of him and moved aside to let them in. He felt another tap on his shoulder, causing him to turn and see who it was, only to be met with a wide-smiled Jimmy. 

“Hey,” Brian choked out, taken by surprise. “Hey, I was hoping to find you.” 

“Do I have a stalker?” Jimmy greeted him, winking. “Should I get a restraining order?” 

Brian awkwardly laughed, “Yeah, ah. Well, you said if I ever wanted to come see the museum I should drop by.”  

“That I did.” 

Brian coughed into his hand, clearing his throat and mustering up any courage he could still cling onto. “Care to show me around?” 

Jimmy happily shrugged, “Don’t see why not. Suppose that’s why I have an intern, so I can slack off and show cute guys around.” 

Brian smiled, “You do this often, then?” 

“Oh, it’s been awhile.” Jimmy began leading the way and weaving through the growing crowd. “Normally they at least give me a warning.” 

Brian matched Jimmy’s steps, following him from the African mammals and towards the Asian mammals. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Sort of a last minute thing.” He felt icky inside for lying to the man he was pursuing but ‘ _ I was too scared of rejection so showing up without a word beforehand somehow made more sense _ ’ sounded pretty bad. 

“Oh, so now I’m an afterthought, I see how it is.” Jimmy elbowed him, lips upturned and that mischievous glint in his eye that Brian was quickly growing accustomed to. 

“No, no, it’s, it’s not like that,” Brian stammered, fumbling over his words. He didn’t want to miss his chance, fuck, he’d come all the way to D.C., hadn’t he? 

“Relax, Zee.” Jimmy placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder, time momentarily freezing around them in the middle of a crowded section. “I’m just teasing.” Jimmy retracted his hand, walking again. “Want to see the butterflies? Not to be biased but I think it’s pretty neat.” 

“Yeah—yeah, I’d love that. Lead the way.” Brian brushed his hand briefly against Jimmy’s as they walked, gulping from the bravery that small movement required. 

They entered the pavillion, greeted by lush green plants, warm toned tiles, and fluttering butterflies. Brian felt overcome with childlike wonder, already feeling a bit closer to Jimmy and seeing a sliver of his world. A monarch flew past him and he half wished it’d land on his nose. 

“Did you help set this up?” 

“Little things,” Jimmy replied, eyes following the monarch’s path. “It’s out of my domain of research, y’know. But, I helped carry them in and make labels, when they needed it.” 

“Right.” Brian nodded. “Bees.” 

“Oh, I will get you over your fear of bees, mister.” Brian chuckled in response to Jimmy’s adamant and clear love of the fuzzy pollinators. “Check this out.” 

Jimmy lifted up his right hand, a light green, almost leaf looking butterfly moving from finger to palm. “The California Dog Face, very rarely spotted in the wild.” It flapped its wings, moving from Jimmy’s palm to Brian’s own stretched out one. Brian smiled, feeling the tiny movements tingle on his skin. It fluttered off, joining others in the foliage, blending in with leaves and twigs once more. 

“Unfortunate name,” Brian said. “I’d name it…..Leaf-fly?” 

“That’s why you’re not an entomologist,” Jimmy responded quickly, punctuating his words with a gentle chuckle. 

They continued to meander through the exhibition, Brian pointing at different butterflies and Jimmy supplying him with names and fun facts. Brian felt like an overgrown schoolboy, honestly not knowing the last time he’d felt this happy and carefree, besides the last time Jimmy had visited. Jimmy snapped a few photos of him with butterflies on his shoulder, walking down his arm, and Brian made sure to get a shot of Jimmy, fussy-faced, as a butterfly landed on his mouth. Brian wondered if it was insane to be jealous of an insect. 

Jimmy stopped, dropping to a squat and ushered for Brian to do the same, pointing at something close to the ground. On one of the logs was a smoky gray butterfly, one of the biggest ones Brian had probably ever seen. 

“This is one of the Swallowtails,” Jimmy said, voice hushed and low. “The Swallowtail is the largest butterfly, they can get up to six inches.” Jimmy held out his hand, trying to coax the butterfly off of the log and onto his pointer finger. It appeared to be contemplating it but instead moved further away after a few silent seconds. 

“Guess she’s shy,” Brian whispered, standing back up.

“Guess so,” Jimmy replied, knuckles brushing against Brian’s own. Brian instinctively pushed back his glasses, flustered at the brief contact between them and wanting to distract himself momentarily. 

“Anything else you want to see on your personal tour of the Smithsonian?” Jimmy asked, holding open to door for him. 

“Besides everything?” Brian pondered. “The dinosaurs.” 

“Nerd,” Jimmy poked, leading him through the the busy halls. 

“You work with dead bugs! In a  _ museum _ ,” Brian defended. “That’s way nerdier than wanting to see dinos. Which, are super awesome by the way.”

Jimmy snickered, “And you work with dead bodies. For the  _ government _ .” 

“Ouch,” Brian laughed. “Okay, touché, you got me there.” 

They continued throughout the museum, Brian taking in everything with wide eyes and a smile. Jimmy was endeared to him, heart warming as he watched Brian accidentally bump elbows with strangers as he tried to get a better view of exhibits. Jimmy stayed back, watching as Brian nearly pressed his nose against the glass to take in the Komodo dragons. 

“Okay, dino time,” Brian said, rejoining Jimmy’s side as they headed up the stairs. Jimmy couldn’t wait to see the look on Brian’s face when he saw the giant t-rex the museum housed. 

“Personally, my favorite dinosaur is an ankylosaurus,” Brian continued, taking two steps at a time. Jimmy rushed to keep up with him, listening to Brian gush about, in his opinion, truly nerdy things. “Just like, imagine that tail swinging at you in battle. Shit’s wild.” 

“I liked those little ones,” Jimmy added, following Brian’s gravitational pull towards the fossils. 

“Yeah, those little guys are cute.” Brian half turned to face him. “Those are fitting for you.” 

“Is yours?” 

“Totally, they’re so badass.”

“Oh yeah, because you’re  _ so  _ rough and edgy. I totally didn’t see  _ any  _ superhero comics in pristine condition at your apartment. Where we watched a Nicolas Cage movie. And you cried.” 

“Leave Spidey and Nic Cage out of this,” Brian defended, laughing. “They make me even more badass.” 

Jimmy put his hands up in mock surrender, laughing as they came before the giant t-rex figurine. 

“Brian, meet Sue.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Brian continued, shaking the airs’ hand, causing Jimmy to snort. 

“Sue’s closest relative is the chicken,” Jimmy said. “I’m guessing you knew that, though.” 

“I did.” Brian nodded. “I had a boyfriend in my freshman year of college who was really into dinosaurs. I swear, everytime we hung out we watched  _ Jurassic Park _ . Guess it stuck.” 

They stood there, absorbing the fantastic feat of fossil reconstruction. As Brian slowly wandered around, eyes widening at the size of the triceratops, Jimmy was struck with an idea. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Jimmy excused himself. Brian just nodded, reading the informational panel. He snuck away, heading down to one of the gift shops, scouting for the perfect surprise for Brian. He perused the large selection for purchase before spotting something hidden and squashed in the barrell. Jimmy grabbed it, immediately knowing it was the perfect item for Brian. He purchased it and snuck back up to where he’d left Brian. 

“Ready to go?” Jimmy asked, alerting Brian of his arrival. 

“Hm? Yeah,” Brian answered, turning around. “Whatcha got there?” 

Jimmy put on a theatrically confused face, hands hidden behind his back. “I don’t have the slightest clue what you mean.” 

Brian crossed his arms, leaving Jimmy no choice but to surrender. 

“Fine, here you go.” Jimmy handed him the plush toy — a stupidly adorable kiwi bird — with a sigh. “Jerk.” 

Brian’s face lit up as he took the bird. “I love it! Dude, you didn’t have to do this.” 

“Should I return it?” Jimmy teased, smiling as Brian wrapped his hands around it, fighting the urge to cuddle it. 

“No, no,” Brian shook his head. “If I have to keep it, I will.” He held the kiwi to his chest, chin resting on it’s small head. 

“I’m glad you like it, went out on a limb with the selection,” Jimmy said sheepishly, hands gesturing out of nervousness. “It just seemed right for you,” he added quietly.

“Yeah, I love birds,” Brian said. “Pelicans are my favorite animal.” 

“Interesting,” Jimmy mused, laughter behind his words. He felt good; this ebbing flow of simple and silent affection between the two of them felt right, felt natural. He could easily imagine days spent like this, exploration dates (if he was not too forward in his thinking that this was a date) around the city, showing Brian his favorite local spots and strolling around the park sipping on iced teas. 

“So,” Brian said as they rode the elevator down to the garage, “Should I just follow you? I mean, assuming that, y’know, I don’t want to impose —” 

“I actually carpooled with a coworker today so I’ll just give you directions and ride with you,” Jimmy interrupted. “And you’re not imposing. I already clocked out.” 

“Cool, cool,” Brian said, itching the back of his neck. The kiwi was tucked underneath his arm. 

“Yeah, I thought you might want to see my apiary?” Jimmy said, now feeling awkward as he slid into the passenger seat. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Brian said, driving out onto the busy D.C. streets. Besides the occasional direction, they drove in silence, Brian enjoying the afternoon sun lighting up the trees and suburban neighborhoods. 

At a red light, Jimmy felt brave. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brian looking around, eyes wide behind his frames. Jimmy inched his arm out, resting a sweaty palm on Brian’s thigh. Brian was visibly startled but made no move to remove the hand as he continued driving without another word. Jimmy looked out the window at the familiar streets, his fingers itching to move but he forced them to stay still. He felt like he was slowly going insane from the frozen stillness of his body, sweat pooling in his armpits and the back of his neck from the tension. It’s just been a while, he tried to reason with himself, that’s why he was nervous.  

“It’s the next one on the left,” Jimmy said, voice croaking. Brian pulled into an empty street spot, parking the car with a hum, and Jimmy retracted his hand as if he had been touching a hot stove. 

“Hey, this place isn’t a total dump like mine,” Brian said with ease, drawing back to the first night Jimmy had spent at Brian’s own Virginia apartment.

Jimmy smiled, fumbling with the keys as Brian took in the potted plants and the brick exterior of Jimmy’s house. There was a decrepit ‘home sweet home’ welcome mat, surprisingly still in one piece with frayed ends. Beside one of the plants was an ashtray filled with water.

“You smoke?” Brian dumbly asked, brain not processing that it was a bad idea before it was too late.

“I try not to,” Jimmy replied, swinging the door open and inviting them in. The house was quaint, sunshine streaming through the windows. Despite the cheeriness and outward coziness though, Brian thought, there was still an overarching sadness and loneliness to the place. Unfilled rooms meant for a family and a trash bin filled with take out containers. In the corner, a cactus was browning and beginning to shrivel. 

“Should I take off my shoes?” Brian asked with trepidation, his hand already on the door frame. 

“You can leave ‘em on, figured we’d see the bees first. Or I—I can give you a tour?” Jimmy continued nervously. “Or, you’re probably hungry? We could eat?” 

“Bees sound great,” Brian answered, feeling unnaturally at ease and wanting to let Jimmy know telepathically,  _ Relax, I like you, you like me, it’s all good _ , or at least let him know through his calm tone. Although, thinking back, he never really was good at expressing how he was feeling. Jimmy curtly nodded, hands tucked together in front of him and moving in an almost duck-like manner as he led Brian through the house to a back room. 

“We need some gear to handle them,” Jimmy said, rifling through a closet. “I’m guessing you don’t want a bunch of stings.” 

Brian shook his head, putting on the veil Jimmy had handed him and then the gloves. 

“Do you not, like, need the whole shebang?” Brian asked, gesturing to his own body to signal what he meant. “When we went out to the scene we had like the whole get up, suit, funky helmet, all that.” 

“Makes sense, none of you guys were really properly trained in how to handle them without disturbing the hive,” Jimmy replied, leading them out to the backyard. “When you get experience, like me, you don’t really need the suit every time.” 

“Gotcha,” Brian said as he stepped out onto the porch. In the yard there were three stacks of yellow boxes, perched slightly off the ground. 

“I’m gonna give them some smoke so we can look inside,” Jimmy said, already piping a small amount of smoke into the apiary.

“It doesn’t hurt them?” 

“Nope,” Jimmy said, bare hand reaching and carefully pulling out a wooden section. “Just relaxes them.” 

A few loose bees flitted around, tiny wings steadily carrying their bodies. Brian initially was scared when he heard the buzzing, then began to become worried when he saw Jimmy’s naked hand grabbing at bee infested stakes. 

“You can just do that?” Brian asked, dumbfounded. His eyes were wide as he watched Jimmy reach around, pulling out a section with honeycomb attached. On the honeycomb itself bees swarmed, half lulled and yet still moving from crevice to crevice, tiny appendages sticky with nectar. 

“Yeah, they don’t really sting,” Jimmy said, bringing the stiff bee busy comb near Brian. “Smoke, remember.” 

Brian just nodded, his gloved hands fidgeting and sweat rolling down his forehead. He knew he was at least somewhat reasonably safe behind the mesh veil but he couldn’t stop thinking about exposed his arms were, ready and available for stinging. Damn the east coast heat and damn his faded band t-shirt that he thought would impress Jimmy, even though halfway through his drive he realized that it was past _vintage faded_ and more _faded to a point that there is a literal hole in my armpit_ _and you can’t tell what the band is_. 

“So, are you going to, uh.” Brian made a vague gesture with his hands, thick with the gloves and clammier than usual. “Harvest it?” 

Jimmy stifled a laugh, “God, you’re cute. No, there’s not enough to make it a worthwhile harvest.” He slotted the section back into the apiary and, after a moment of contemplation, swiped a finger through a small amount of excess dripping down the side. 

“Want a taste?” Jimmy asked, reminding Brian of their first meeting. Instead of the overwhelming, headache-inducing morgue scent surrounding them, there was lilac wafting in the breeze, freshly cut grass, and the enveloping smell of honey. 

“Yeah,” Brian said, voice soft as he lifted off the veiled helmet and tossed it into the grass with a gentle thunk. He moved closer, inching forward slowly, feeling like his own two feet were trapped in buckets of honey and forcing him to stay still. Jimmy stood there, confusion on his face as he watched Brian stumble closer, as if he was a bumblebee bumping against a flower pot. His hands were sweating profusely under the gloves when he leaned forward and kissed him.

“Mm,” Brian hummed, mouth still against Jimmy’s and a smile on both their faces. 

“Taste good?” Jimmy teased, the sweet sample on his hand long forgotten and falling in between the blades of grass, finding home in the ground below.

“Just like honey.”

**Author's Note:**

> [bees?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVIwoHwlnrU)
> 
> [reblog here](https://aaronabrams.tumblr.com/post/185434554510/just-like-honey-pairing-jimmy-pricebrian-zeller)
> 
> also, i apologize if the smithsonian bit isn't 100% correct i've never been.


End file.
